


Overheard

by ficsandcatsandficsandcats



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23959933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficsandcatsandficsandcats/pseuds/ficsandcatsandficsandcats
Summary: Reader Request: Pretty please a little smut fic of the reader overhearing Jask ~taking care of business~ and getting turned on by it?
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Overheard

“ _Fuck_.”

You froze, halting in your tracks at the muttered oath coming from next door. Though you’d insisted it was stupid to segregate sleeping quarters by gender just because you were in an establishment instead of outside, Geralt had insisted on it in a weird burst of chivalric instinct. Your rooms were right next to each other, at least, and you had been about to leave to see if Jaskier wanted to practice archery some more when you heard the sound.

Another sound escape between the thin walls that separated your rooms, and you crept back onto the cot to press your ear against it and listen. It’s unmistakable this time, the barely muffled moans and the curses mumbled under his breath. Your body felt hot, warmed by a mixture of shame and arousal as you listened. You’d always wondered what Jaskier would sound like in the throes of passion and while not the ideal way for you to find out, it was still glorious to overhear.

“Y/N,” you hear him moan and your whole body stiffens, terrified he can somehow see you or sense that you’re invading his privacy. Then you hear him keep speaking, narrating his fantasy as though he were performing it. Your throat goes dry as you hear him describe the different ways he wants to take you, some requiring more flexibility than you think you can manage but gods you want to try. His words drift into quickened breaths that deteriorate into stifled moans and you can picture the way he’s biting his teeth to try and muffle the sounds his orgasm pulls from him. You hear movement as he cleans up and the sounds get more distant until there is a knock on your door that makes you squeak in surprise.

“Y/N? You ok?” you hear Jaskier’s voice through the door. You walk over to the door and open it. He’s standing there, looking at you like everything is normal. You can see the telltale slight flush of his skin but otherwise you’d never know if you hadn’t overheard.

“I was going to see if you wanted to go shooting. Are you alright? You look a bit flushed, are you getting sick?” he asks, concerning creasing his face. You gape at him, uncertain what to say or if you should confess what you’ve heard.

“I’m… good. How are you? You good?” you ask awkwardly.

“Yeah I’m great. Are you sure you’re ok? You’re acting a bit… weird,” he says, walking into your room and sitting on the bed you were moments ago crouched on, ears against the wall.

“Yes I’m great I just… Hmm…” you chew on your lip and try to weigh the pros and cons of telling him. Pro, this might open some doors for you. Con, he might be embarrassed and never speak to you again. Then again, not speaking wasn’t Jaskier’s strong suit…

“Out with it, Y/N, you’re making me nervous,” he says.

“The walls are thin,” you say meaningfully.

“Oh did Geralt’s snoring keep you up last night too? I’m sorry, I’ve tried to tell him but he won’t-“

“No, not Geralt.”

“Well I don’t snore! I’ve been assured I sleep like an angel,” he defends.

“Jaskier,” you say, looking down at his hands, face flushing as you think of where they’ve been only moments ago, “The walls are very thin and I’ve been in the room all morning.”

“Oh. Oh! Oh…” Jaskier’s face runs through a few different emotions and lands on uncertainty, looking to you for cues as to how mortified he should be.

“I was especially interested in that last thing you mentioned,” you say, “With the oil.”

“Oh?” Jaskier perks up a bit, “It wasn’t… weird?”

“Oh it was very weird,” you say as you take a seat on his lap, his arm instinctively holding you steady, “But I like weird. I like you don’t I?”

Jaskier scoffs and inhales deeply, ready to begin a tirade against the injustice of you calling him weird, but you still his protest with your lips.

The walls are thin, Geralt thinks as he returns from his morning ride with Roach.

The walls are too fucking thin. 

And next time they can sleep outside.


End file.
